


Wounds

by lionofwrath



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Anger, Arguing, Blood, Developing Friendships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofwrath/pseuds/lionofwrath
Summary: Vegeta injures himself while training and Bulma gives him some medical attention.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I admit that I haven't been into DBZ for quite awhile, but the new game is really interesting so here I am. And since angsty drabbles seem to be my writing specialty, I couldn’t resist doing one.

_Weak._ The hateful voice whispered in his ear.

He slammed his fist into the punching bag again to try to shut it up. Frieza was dead.

_But you were too weak to do it yourself._ Frieza reminded him with a high mocking laugh.

He bared his teeth, determined to ignore the voice in his head. So what if Kakarot was the legendary hero? He’d keep training, keep getting stronger, and when Kakarot finally came back he’d defeat him too. He tried to picture his rival instead as he struck the bag, but as soon as his focus slipped the image changed from him back to Frieza. It was more than he could bear, and he lashed out violently, needing his tormentor to suffer just as much as he had.

Blood running down that hated face at the first blow.

Another hit. The smell thick and familiar in the warm air.

Another. Red spattering across white.

It wasn’t enough. He kept punching, drawing more blood. Enough blood to wash away that smug smile that still haunted him, to wash away his weakness, and his memories, and his pain…

A hand slid across his wrist. Instinctively, he threw it off, spinning to face this new enemy. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even sensed their presence.

The attacker let out a high-pitched shriek as she stumbled backwards. As he recognised her he lowered his fist, hesitantly reaching out to keep her from falling instead. Before he could, she caught herself, leaving him unsure if he even would’ve grabbed her or simply let her hit the ground.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, ask if she was okay. He didn’t know how and the words stuck in his throat.

They stared at each other for a moment, the quick flash of fear in her eyes becoming an accusation.

‘Why are you bothering me, woman?’ He snarled finally, hating how awkward and guilty he felt at the silence. Rage was always so much easier to deal with.

She was still pale, but her expression pinched up in anger. ‘Are you kidding me? You- I can’t believe I was actually…’ She huffed loudly. ‘I’m _bothering_ you, your highness, because you’re bleeding all over the damn place.’

Surprised, he glanced down at his hands. His knuckles were split open, blood dripping between his fingers. More was smeared over the large dent he’d made in the punching bag. Now that he’d noticed, he could feel the sting of the cuts, the dull ache along his forearms, but it was slight compared to some of the pain he’d felt.

He shrugged, turning back to continue his training. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ She snapped.

_Stupid little monkey._ The insult was so clear that for an instant he thought she’d actually said it. He gritted his teeth, the snarl and his anger dying suddenly as she took one of his hands in hers. Instantly he froze, his breathing shallow as she shifted his hand from side to side to get a better look. She was being gentle, but he knew far too well how quickly a soft touch could turn cruelly painful. Her thumb brushed a little too close to one of the wounds and he flinched so badly that he knew she’d felt it.

The mockery he expected didn’t come, but when she spoke she sounded furious. ‘Come on, I’ll fix you up.’

Fear made a cold knot in his stomach, but there was something in her eyes that called to him even as he struggled to recognise it. He let her lead him out of the training room without another argument.

‘You’d better not get blood on my couch.’ She warned him as she pointedly shoved a towel at him.

He growled at the order, but he was a bit too shaken to do more than sit down and place the towel in his lap while he waited for her. His hands bled heavily onto the light fabric, the red stain creeping out towards the edges.

‘What did I say?’ She sighed as she returned with an armful of medical supplies, her tone oddly mild.

‘Sorry.’ He mumbled, surprised that he actually meant it.

‘Oh, um.’ Sitting next to him, she held out another towel. ‘Let me see your hands.’

After looking them over carefully she started pulling out antiseptic and bandages. ‘You’re lucky you didn't break anything.’

He knew that already, he’d been in enough fights with broken bones to know exactly what it felt like, but the words stung his pride and he bristled. ‘As if a mere punching bag-’

‘Mere? Excuse me, that’s a piece of premium Bulma Briefs technology made specifically to stand up to a Saiyan.’

She glared at him. He glared back just as fiercely.

But she was still gentle as she cleaned the cuts on his hands.

He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t understand why she did anything, really. She let him stay in her house, not quite without complaint, but she’d never semed to expect anything as payment. Arrogance let him outwardly pretend that it was the least he was due as a prince, but he wasn’t truly that naive. His title had always been a hollow lie, and the earthlings had made it very clear that it meant nothing to them either.

He watched her wrap fresh bandages around his knuckles, remembering Nappa patching him up after a beating or a fight. That had been part of his duty towards him though, he couldn’t find a reason why she would do the same for him.

_Everything has a price._ One of Frieza’s favourite and harshest lessons. A boy enslaved for his planet’s freedom. The right to live bought with the death of others. Mistakes repaid in pain and blood.

He watched her helping him and wondered when she’d demand what he owed her.

She glanced up at him with a frown. ‘Hey, you ok?’

The question dragged him out of his dark thoughts and he realised that he was shuddering slightly. For a moment he couldn’t find his usual anger, no quick sarcastic comment to fling back at her. ‘I…’ He didn’t think he was. All he’d had for so long had been his hatred of Frieza, his drive to be free of him, and now he finally had that freedom he just felt so lost. ‘I’m fine.’

Mercifully, she dropped the subject.

The small, quiet peace between them vanished when she let go of his hands to gather up the medical supplies.

‘You’d better not train before those heal.’

He snorted and shook his head.

She narrowed her eyes threateningly. ‘I mean it. I’m not doing this again tomorrow.’

‘Don’t order me around, woman.’ He snarled too viciously.

‘Stubborn bastard. Go ahead and break your fingers next time then. See if I give a shit.’ She rolled her eyes and stood up.

He stared at his neatly bandaged hands instead of her as she stormed out. He hadn’t meant to piss her off so much after the obvious care she’d taken to help him, but he didn’t know how to respond to these strange people when they treated him with something other than open contempt.

When he was sure that she was far enough away that she wouldn’t hear him he whispered softly into the empty room. ‘Thank you.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to just be a one-shot, but then I decided I wanted to write a bit more from Bulma's PoV.

When she came back a few hours later he was still there.

She stopped in the doorway at the sight of him sprawled out across the length of the couch, either sleeping or just staring at the far wall. He must’ve moved at least once to take a shower, since his hair was damp and he’d changed clothes. She was pleased to see that he’d obviously taken care not to get his bandages wet and undo all her hard work.

The reminder of what she’d witnessed gave her chills though, while she had been annoyed at him getting blood all over the equipment she’d made that hadn’t been the reason she’d risked her life to stop him. She’d watched him train enough to know that he was a very highly-skilled fighter, but today he’d lacked his usual finesse. He’d simply been throwing punches as hard as he could, heedless of the damage he was inflicting on himself and even though she really barely knew him, the sheer brutality of it had scared her.

Her friends wouldn’t have understood, they thought she was crazy for letting him stay with her at all, she knew they considered him to be at best an asshole and at worst a monster.

She whole-heartedly agreed that he was a grade-A asshole, but he definitely wasn’t a complete monster.

He must have heard her come in because he shifted positions and threw her a narrow glance.

‘I didn’t think you’d still be here.’

‘You told me not to go back to training.’ His tone was listless rather than the outright anger she expected.

‘Well yeah. But I didn’t think you’d listen to reasonable advice.’ She wasn’t sure he ever had before. Sometimes he pushed himself so hard that she had started to wonder if he actually enjoyed hurting himself, but now she doubted that was true.

‘I’m not fucking stupid.’ He snarled, his fingers tearing into the back of the couch as his hand curled into a fist.

A jolt of fear ran through her, but she refused to take a step back. ‘I know.’ She tried to calm him down, wondering where the sudden rage had come from and then remembering that earlier in her own anger she’d called him that. ‘I’m sorry I said it.’

The anger faded to an animal-like wariness, his body still tensed for a fight.

It was unnerving and she hastily recalled why she’d come here in the first place. ‘I was gonna have dinner. You want some?’

He hesitated, then shrugged as if he could take it or leave it.

She realised that she’d never seen him eat anything. Food just disappeared from the kitchen at regular intervals, but they hadn’t sat down and had a proper meal together. ‘What, is it beneath the dignity of the prince of all Saiyans to eat with a human?’

His lips twisted in an unpleasant smile. ‘You wouldn’t be the worst company I’ve ever had.’

‘Whoa, easy on the flattery there, your highness, a girl can only take so much.’

Maybe it was only her imagination that his edged smile softened a bit.

She’d known Goku for long enough to appreciate how much food Saiyans could put away, but he ate even faster, his eyes flicking to her every so often and each time he nudged his plate further away as though he thought she’d make an attempt to steal his food.

Maybe that was exactly what he was expecting. She didn’t know much about his life, but the little she did know sounded far from pleasant.

‘Do you want more?’ It was a perfectly normal question, and anyone else would’ve answered it casually. He stared at her with an expression between panic and outright fear, and kept utterly quiet and still.

She was loud and abrasive sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, but she wasn’t an unobservant airhead. It hadn’t taken her long to notice that certain phrases or situations seemed to trigger an unexpected reaction in him. He was struggling with something other than just adjusting to living on Earth and each new glimpse into his pain made her worry more about him.

‘It’s ok, there’s plenty of food.’ She forced herself to sound cheery, hoping to break him out of whatever he was feeling before he got trapped in it. Despite the cold prickle down her spine at having her back to someone so dangerous she went over to the counter to give him some privacy to compose himself.

She struggled a bit with the plate of food, turning around to find him standing directly behind her. The edge of the plate hit him and she gasped as it fell out of her hands. Faster than she could blink he’d already grabbed it with one hand before it landed on the floor.

He looked startled, which irritated her. What the hell had he expected to happen, sneaking up on her like that? She couldn’t decide if she should thank him for saving the plate or yell at him for making her drop it in the first place.

He didn't say anything either, but the bigger problem was that he wasn’t moving, keeping her trapped between the counter and his body. If she tried to get by him on one side she’d probably knock the plate out of his hand, and if she went the other way she’d brush up against him. He didn’t like being touched, and she’d already had a near-death experience from making that mistake once today.

Instead, she took the opportunity to study him. She’d never been quite this close to him before so she might as well indulge her curiosity.

He was about the same height as her, but he seemed larger most of the time from the sheer intensity and anger radiating off him. That was dimmed right now, but she could still feel his power simmering under the surface, waiting for a reason to explode.

His gaze was fixed on her too. Without the nearly constant rage and hate filled snarl he usually wore he looked oddly young and vulnerable, his dark eyes too expressive, and she couldn’t believe she’d never noticed before how pretty they were.

He leaned towards her, his lips parting slightly in an enticing invitation, and she was seized by the sudden crazy impulse to take him up on it.

But his eyes filled with bitter pain as he let out a heavy sigh, and when he backed away the moment was gone.

She leaned against the counter behind her to stay upright, feeling dizzy at their near kiss.

He slumped in his chair as he started eating again. The tank top he had on didn’t cover much, and the overheard light made the scars criss-crossing his arms stand out.

She wanted to know how he’d gotten them. She wanted to run her fingers along every single one of the marks on those muscular arms and then trace the lines that led under his shirt down the rest of his body. She wanted to kill whoever had hurt him so badly.

‘What, woman?’ He growled in frustration as he caught her staring.

His voice brought her back to reality. For once she held her tongue, she wasn’t going to admit to this arrogant jerk of an alien prince that she was the least bit attracted to him. Especially if he was going to stubbornly ignore what had almost happened too. ‘I just realised that I left something on in my lab.’

His eyes narrowed as though he sensed the lie. ‘You’re not that careless.’

She blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the words. ‘Wait… was that a compliment?’

‘Tch.’ He grumbled at the idea, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he looked away in regal dismissal.

‘Wow, I thought if you were nice you’d like, spontaneously combust or something.’

‘And I thought you were leaving.’ He growled, his blush deepening and spreading to his ears.

Shit, he was cute when he was flustered. ‘I’m going, I’m going.’ But she wasn’t going to forget any of this, the moment they’d almost kissed burned into her memory. Next time, and she’d make sure there was a next time, she wouldn’t hesitate.


End file.
